


Fools or Gold

by Swish42



Series: Shattered Soul Series [6]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Human Gaster - Freeform, Old West, Undertale NPC's, Various Undertale Characters - Freeform, child gaster, world building
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:01:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29073744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swish42/pseuds/Swish42
Summary: A Young WingDings Gaster finds himself flung from a historic vacation spot with his family to an actually time in history. Everything might be covered in dirt and grime, but the people in this town have hearts of gold that he may never find anywhere else.
Series: Shattered Soul Series [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1338697
Kudos: 8





	1. The Whole Kit and Caboodle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As with all the stories in this series you don’t have to read them all, just the ones that interest you. All you need to know is that WingDings Gaster is a child looking for the pieces of his lost soul through time and space.

There is joy at birth they say. For example, when WingDings was born it was a momentous occasion, filled with tears, a little fear, and uncertainty. When the worry and confusion settled and they held that baby bones in their arms they were filled with joy. WingDings doesn’t remember that day, only hears the stories they tell him. As he opens his eyes and hears the cries of joy from a human standing over him, celebrating his arrival, WingDings is reminded of those stories and wonders if this is what it was like. Either way, the man in front of him, jumping for joy and hollering at the top of his lungs over this miracle of life, certainly appears convinced.

WingDings feels heavy as he lays breathless on a wooden work bench in a space stained golden by the particles wafting through the air. The last thing WingDings remembers is being on vacation with his friends and family, chasing Frisk from one informational stand to the next in a historic town. Now he is exhausted, robbed of the energy he once had and is bombarded with a strange human’s bewildering celebration.

“Oh this is a joyous day and I wasn’t even prepared for it!” the man cries returning to WingDings side. The man has dark lines under his kind hazel eyes with a lopsided grin and slightly crooked nose. His skin is brown which strikes a strong contrast with his thick silver hair, wafting wildly from his head. He also wears goggles which he quickly throws off along with his gloves.

“Hello child,” he is grinning ear to ear and tears come to his eyes. Gently bringing his left hand forward the man cups the side of WingDings head and lifts it carefully. “I’m sorry, but I don’t have a proper name prepared for you. I wasn’t expecting my doll to gain a soul. Wait till I tell the boys!”

Doll? Doll! He is not a doll! “I’m WingDings sir,” he declares his voice cracking badly with static.

“WingDings?” the man’s gaze narrows seriously, repeating the name under his breath a few times before he brightens a second later. “That is a wonderful name! My name is Walter D. Gaster. It is a joy to meet you. I made your body.”

“Made?” WingDings eye lights glance down and what he sees makes him wish he hadn’t done something so foolish. He is no longer a skeleton, he is as the man has said, a doll. His body is made of hard white slabs of clay with dark iron and magic holding it together inside. At the center of his chest he can glimpse his red soul pulsing between the cracks of his clay exoskeleton.

“WingDings? WingDings!” Walter takes hold of the child’s chin and makes him look up at him. “Don’t think about it. Think about something else, like where you want to go and the fun you’ll have. Oh wait do you know where you even are?” Entertaining this new thought sends the excitable human on a tangent that is enough to distract WingDings from his near freak out.

“What a scatter brain I am, you evidently know how to speak. Perhaps you are not a new soul at all, merely an old one possessing my doll. That would explain how this is even possible since I didn’t very well put a piece of my life into you. This will certainly make explaining things much easier, as much fun as it would be to raise a third child. . . Are you feeling all right WingDings?”

“Uh, I, I’m just . . . freaking out,” WingDings says honestly.

Walter nods, acknowledging WingDings observation. “Yes, yes, that is an understandable response given the circumstances,” the man assures him.

“This new body is unnatural,” WingDings eyes drift down, but he quickly tugs them up again in favor of looking at Walter.

“If you are merely suggestion that this body is not organic and artificial then that would be a sound judgment, but if you mean unnatural as in strange or fake I can assure you that your body is beautiful and perfectly functional for a soul,” Walter states matter-of-factly. “I’m no fogy. I worked very hard on your body and I can tell at a glance that the soul it protects is a grand one. There is nothing unnatural about you.”

WingDings eyes widen and he is struck dumb. No one has ever used such words to describe him or his soul. Sure people say nice things, but not anything so articulate. Honestly he never thought he needed to hear such words until Walter uttered them. Since words are failing him he does the next best thing he knows to show his gratitude. At first he can’t move, but he is determined to show Walter and with red power he surges upwards and hugs Walter, grabbing at the straps of the man’s thick brown apron and burying his face in his smelly shirt. The man smells like iron, dust, oil, and sweat, but WingDings doesn’t care.

Chuckling softly, Walter returns the hug before picking the child up. “Now tell me WingDings, how old are you?” he asks.

The child looks around the space he’s in and likens it to a large barn. The walls are made completely of iron and wood, with large gaps between the panels allowing streams of golden light to filter through. There are also chains, work benches, tools, two large furnaces and an enormous steam machine in the very center of the room. There are other machines, but they are hidden under heavy cloth, hidden from his sight.

After thoroughly studying the room, WingDings answers the older mans question. “I’m seven years old, how old are you?” WingDings smiles, when his eyes come back to rest on Walter.

“HA! What a cheeky child. Don’t you know asking an elder their age is rude!” Walter laughs heartily, only stopping when he chokes on some dust and smoke eliciting harsh coughs. “Oh but you’re a smart one. I just marked off my fifty-second year.”

“Wow, that’s old for a human,” WingDings says, intending his words to be a compliment.

“Well I’m not planning to cash in my chips so soon in the game,” Walter tells him, leaning close and giving the child a conspirator’s grin. He grabs a rag from a stand he passes and wraps the child in it to cover him somewhat.

WingDings is unfamiliar with the phrase Walter has used, but he gets the idea.

“Let’s get you some threads and introduce you to the boys, they should be out of school by now,” Walter reaches the large wooden slate door to his workplace and shoves it open. “I’m calling it a day Alphys, see you in the morning!”

“H-have a go-good day S-sir,” a yellow monster peeks around the workbench she’s hiding behind, smiling pleasantly until she see’s WingDings. Dropping a wrench, she lifts a finger pointing in shock and sputtering. “Wh-what di-did yo-you . . .” she is unable to finish.

“Oh Alphys this is WingDings Gaster, the newest member of my family, WingDings this is my loyal partner, friend and genius mechanic Doctor Alphys,” Walter explains to the child.

“Hello Doctor Alphys,” WingDings waves.

Slowly, and shaking like a leaf, Alphys does the same. “H-hello,” Alphys manages to say.

“I’m sure you’ll be seeing much more of each other in the near future,” Walter declares and after a final farewell leaves the workshop. Once outside there is nothing blocking the scorching rays of the sun. Walter stands there a moment and takes a deep breath, clearly enjoying the fresh air.

Passing by a tall wooden fence that surrounds Walter’s workplace, WingDings is taken down a narrow path and up the main street. Walter is careful to stay on the wooden platform walkways that make up the front of several store fronts. They pass a tackle and saddle shop, an inn, a barber shop, and a tailor to name a few. On the other side WingDings spots a saloon where he can make out the familiar glow of a fire elemental through the foggy glass windows.

“Here we are!” Walter goes up a side street and walks across a dirt yard to a quaint little house. The home has a quaint porch with five rocking chairs out front, some flower boxes and a cobble stone path. “I designed the house myself,” Walter tells the child, throwing back his head slightly in pride. “Tried to build it too, but Asgore wouldn’t allow it.” He laughs again and walks inside with a pep in his aged gait.

“Sans, Papyrus, are you home or out gallivanting in the streets with Fuku and Undyne again?” Walter calls into the house. They stand in the entry way with a small living room to the right and a tiny office space sitting to the left. In front of them is a staircase leading up to three rooms and a hall leading to the workshop and kitchen.

“Oh, their out all right,” a female calls from what WingDings assumes is the kitchen. She holds her head out the door of the kitchen revealing a deer or cow like monster. “Only way I could keep their hands out of the pie,” her head disappears before reappearing again to scold Walter before he’s even done anything. “You can’t touch it either, not until after dinner.”

“Ah, that’s Sasha,” Walter explains to WingDings, leaning in close. “She’s a real keeper she is.”

“Don’t make me sound like your Slummy . . . or you’re Nanny for that matter,” Sasha calls to him.

“Sasha,” Walter puts one hand gently over where WingDings far ear would be if he had one, while gently pushing the other side of the child’s face against his cheek. “There are children present.”

Sasha’s face reappears and she curses as soon as she sees the child sitting comfortably in his arms. “You made another one!” Sasha glares at Walter pointedly as if he’s committed some great and heinous crime.

“Language,” Walter gasps.

“I’m telling the Mayor about this and then the Reverend,” Sasha says wagging a finger at him. She takes a step out of the kitchen before stopping and looking back at whatever it is she is cooking. Her eyes turn towards Walter and WingDings, but her face remains pointed into the kitchen. “After,” she motions towards him again. “I’m finished cooking dinner. Ain’t no one starving on my watch.” With that she disappears and there is a clank and clatter of pans.

“While you do that Sasha I’m going to find some clothes for WingDings,” he calls pleasantly to the housekeeper and walks up the narrow steps. “I’m sure I can find something of Papyrus’s that will fit you.” He takes WingDings into his room and sets him on the bed.

The room is small, the sloped ceiling, numerous chests, and drawers all make it appear even smaller, but the space is clean and well kept. Walter moves to one of the chests and opens the lid. Inside it is stuffed to the brim with clothes, nicely folded as to utilize all available space. “Here we are,” Walter picks out a few things and returns to WingDings holding a small pile of clothing. “The boys grow so big so quickly, but I can’t bear to part with some of their old clothes. Good thing I didn’t.”

Setting them out on the bed, WingDings takes a look and picks out some brown overalls and a shirt. “Oh I should grab some undergarments for you too,” Walter leaves the room, presumably going into his son’s bedroom to collect what he needs. He returns with some underwear, socks and an undershirt. WingDings doesn’t typically wear an undershirt back home, but he knows what it is.

When the child is dressed, Walter measures him with a piece of string, marking it, before showing him the other two rooms. “This is Sans room across from mine and the one in the back is Papyrus’s room. You’ll be staying with Papyrus since his room is bigger,” he shows off Papyrus’s room and honestly it doesn’t look all that much bigger than Walters’s room. “Go ahead and play, the toys are in the chest.” When WingDings gives a look, that he doesn’t even know the meaning of, Walter assures him. “Oh Papyrus won’t mind sharing with you, have some fun. I’ll be back with another bed mat.”

“Thank you Mister Gaster,” WingDings says, tipping his head forward to show that he is grateful. He isn’t sure how they show gratitude in this world but a simple nod of the head is typically understood no matter where he goes.

“It’s no trouble at all WingDings,” Walter assures him. “I look forward to hearing your story round the dinner table tonight. I hate to leave you, but I want to get this done before the sun leaves us for tomorrow.”

“I’ll be fine,” WingDings replies. “I’ve been left alone before.”

“You have?” Walter is nearly appalled, frowning at the thought of leaving a child so young all by themselves without company. “Well, I’ll be back lickety split.” Giving the child a friendly pat on the head and a cooky smile, Walter goes on his way leaving WingDings to his own devices.

While it is tempting to go wild and possibly pull a prank on the uppity Sasha, WingDings clears his throat and impersonates his brother out loud. “Now WingDings,” the child points one finger in the air, swinging it in front of his body like a conductor. “You must be on your best behavior and a good guest to your hosts. You are the younger brother of the great Papyrus and are capable of being great as well. Make us proud!” WingDings holds the final pose for dramatic effect, standing so still and silent one can easily hear the horses galloping on the main street.

Dropping his arms WingDings first sets about exploring the room, opening the chests and drawers to see what mysterious lie inside. Sadly he doesn’t have anything to add to Papyrus’s stash of clothing and tools since his cell phone didn’t come with him on this trip. Odd really, since this is the first time that’s happened. So much for being prepared and packing up his Dimensional Loot Box with survival items.

Although it looks like he won’t need any of that here.

Wait, WingDings looks around the room. He said this was Papyrus’s room . . . that means the Papyrus in this world is around his same age.

The permanent smile that is most always on his face broadens as he realizes what this means. His brother’s from back home are around his same age in this world! His soul fills with such joy he can’t contain it, his feet hopping up and down as he brings his arms up again his chest. This is almost as exciting as Giftmas Day!

“Walter, I’m heading out,” Sasha calls from downstairs. “Expect a visit from the Mayor tonight you Odd Fish!”  
A more muffled voice calls after her. “I am not an Odd Fish, don’t be putting weird ideas in the child’s head,” Walter calls back, but he’s laughing heartily.

Hearing Walter’s laughter is a comfortable sound and WingDings decides right then and there that he likes it despite the loudness and slight wheezing. After the commotion downstairs is over, WingDings returns to exploring, surprised to see that there aren’t very many things he would consider toys. Papyrus has some handmade wooden and iron puzzles, which isn’t surprising. He also has a wind up mechanism that has a skeleton move up a latter before falling down. At the bottom of the chest he finds something familiar a cup and ball toy which he pulls out and occupies his time with.

The child is too proud to admit this, but he isn’t very coordinated physically. He can run and dodge decently thanks to his living two years in the beast clan, but he has a difficult time catching or throwing things correctly. In general he hates sports and things that might fall through his fingers . . . or through his hands.

Holding the stick and ball in front of him, WingDings presses his glossy lips as he focuses. Bend his arms, put it level to his chin and keep his fingers lose. He can do this. His focus is complete and his determination stirs as he focuses on the tiny white ball dangling from a string.

He flips the ball.

And it hits him on the nasal cavity.

Well that is where it would have hit him if he still had a nasal cavity. Wiggling that portion of his face, he gently touches the ridge in the middle of his face. His eyes go wide as he feels his face with both hands, dropping his toy. His numerous parts tremble and his smile becomes lopsided, stretching in a wobbly line across his face. He thought he’d get use to this.

He has no nose.

Not that he had a nose before.

Slowly he lowers to the floor, reaching for the toy again, but not quite picking it up. His eyes glance over his hands and he realizes that the holes are still there, although they aren’t completely sealed, revealing some hidden gears if he looks closely. Strangely enough he finds the sight of the holes comforting despite the oddity of seeing between his hard skin.

Since there is nothing he can do about it he picks up the toy again and takes another swing at it. He misses but as he continues he methodically adjusts his strength and the twist of his wrist until he finally gets the ball into the cup. Pleased with this outcome after fifteen minutes of trying he does it again and again until he can consistently get the ball in the cup every time.

Around this time, WingDings hears the shouts of a child from somewhere outside. His soul jumps in his chest with excitement and it hums in expectation. Shooting to his feet, WingDings places the toy back in the chest and races down the stairs, nearly tripping at the bottom as he races to meet his new family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are again, this time in the old west with a human old man Gaster. I actually thought up this AU and version of Gaster around the same time I was dreaming up this series. Only difference is that WingDings story took off and this little story is all I have for Walter D. Gaster.


	2. Bone n’ Metal Brothers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meet the boys.

“Father you're home early! Did you blow something up again?” a high pitched voice bellows from beyond the front door. WingDings head perks up from his game, all previous thoughts dashed at the sound of that strangely familiar voice.

“Heavens no child, in fact I have a surprise for . . .” Walter doesn’t have the opportunity to finish as WingDings comes bounding out the door, fumbling over the steps he forgot were there and throwing himself at Papyrus without looking. He hugs the shocked child giddily, swiveling back and forth as the taller Papyrus looks down in confusion.

It doesn’t take long for Papyrus to hug him back though, laughing in his special nasal tone as he holds onto WingDings.

“Looks like the cats out of the bag already,” Walter laughs. The man has a carpet beater in one hand and a bed mat leaning against the side of the house.

“Just another catastrophe waiting to happen,” Sans giggles.

As soon as WingDings is made aware of the other brothers presence he removes himself from Papyrus to latch himself onto Sans next. This is an amazing experience to be in the presence of his brothers as children! He never would have dreamed he’d have an opportunity like this. “I’ll have you know I’m the purr-fect catch!” WingDings says into Sans hard chest.

“Oh no, Father fix him!” Papyrus gasps in alarm. “One punny brother is enough.”

“You’ve got to be kitten me,” Walter says with an exaggerated gasp. “I didn’t think it could be duplicated. Why would I change that?”

“NYEH!” Papyrus yells.

“Cat me some slack, will you?” WingDings grins pulling away so he can be clearly heard.

No sooner does he say this then he’s being hugged again by Sans even tighter than before. “Tabby honest, I’m never letting you go!” Sans declares.

“I cat survive like this . . . NYEH! Meow I’m doing it,” Papyrus stomps a foot and is about to run off, but having seen this behavior plenty of times before Walter steps in and puts a gentle hand on Papyrus head.

“Let him have some fun, he’s been through a lot today,” Walter soothes the boy.

Papyrus folds his arms across his chest debating his father’s wisdom, but in the end he accepts it and turns back towards the newest member of their family. “I will be the bigger person and let the awful puns slide for today. But just today!”

“That’s really nice of you brother,” Sans says.

“Yes that is,” Walter agrees, putting a hand towards the ground as he carefully lowers himself to one knee.

Released from Sans tight hug, WingDings finally gets a chance to actually see what his brother’s look like. He is expecting to see skeleton children, similar to how they look now only smaller, but instead he sees something confusing. They are still skeletal for the most part, but also have bits and pieces of metal making up portions of their bodies. Part of Papyrus’s body appears to be made of copper, while Sans appears to be steel.

It is a little frightening, which is seen when his eye lights shrink.

Recognizing the look of someone who is nervous Papyrus and Sans take a half step away, cautiously gauging what WingDings might do next. Walter doesn’t move, a small smile on his face as he watches the gears of WingDings mind explore what he is seeing. In the end WingDings curiosity and fascination win out and he reaches up to Sans face to touch it, since he’s closest.

Sans wearily looks at his father, but when Walter nods in encouragement, the boy relaxes letting WingDings glossy white fingers touch where the pieces of metal and bone fit together seamlessly. “That is very interesting!” WingDings says, eyes glowing bright in wonder.

“Thanks, Dad made me himself,” Sans boasts, putting his hands into his large overall pockets.

“He made all of us,” Papyrus says. In the moment WingDings goes to Papyrus next to touch him and the taller brother gracious allows him to. WingDings doesn’t understand what they mean by ‘he made us.'

He’ll find out eventually.

“Sans and Papyrus this is WingDings,” Walter introduces him properly as WingDings continues to contemplate the unique structure of his new brothers bodies. “He isn’t quite like you two since he has a soul all his own. My latest automaton just happened to be the vessel his wandering soul chose. Even so, I still consider him family and expect you to do your best as his new big brothers.”

“Sure thing Dad,” Sans says with a tilted nod of his head.

“You know you can count on me Father,” Papyrus stands proudly.

“Thank you boys,” Walters’ smile isn’t quite as funny looking now. In this moment it looks truly content and proud. “And I’m especially glad to hear you say that Papyrus since he’ll be sharing a room with you.”

Nothing.

There is no movement from the new big brothers. Steadily Sans eye lights drag towards Papyrus who is only an inch shorter than him. WingDings wonders if perhaps Papyrus will throw a fit and almost regrets some of his excessive puns.

Almost.

Finally Papyrus gasps, stars lighting in his eyes as he imagines what this means for him. “I must make room for my new brother!” Papyrus declares and races into the house, laughing in glee.

Walter laughs and rubs both boys hands before carefully pushing himself back up onto his feet. “I’m almost done here Sans,” he tells his son. “Why not take WingDings into the living room and help him feel at home.”

“Sure thing dad,” Sans says and without thinking takes WingDings hands to guide him back inside. Having his hand held feels a little odd, but he is the young one here so perhaps Sans is simply trying to be friendly. “Have a seat.”

They both plop onto a couch with Sans leaning back against one of the cushions. Upstairs they can hear Papyrus moving stuff around, the grating sound of the wood chest rubbing the floor boards very loudly.

“Don’t damage the floor Papyrus!” Walter shouts up the stairs as he enters with the sleeping mat for WingDings. “I’ll be down shortly,” the man tells them and with a huff begins his slow and steady march up the steps with the cumbersome mat.

“Here let me help you Dad,” Sans slides off the couch and scurries around to lift one side as Walter drags the mat up.

“Thank you son, but be careful,” he says as they make their way up each step.

WingDings watches intently, finding the sight comforting and very much reminding him of his own family. A few minutes later Sans and Papyrus are bounding down the stairs with Walter taking more care of his pace behind them. The boys join WingDings on the couch while Walter sits in a high backed chair close by.

“All right, where to start, everything is happening so fast I hardly feel prepared,” Walter reveals unabashedly.

“Do not worry Father, for I know exactly what to say,” the loud copper skull skeleton exclaims. “I’m Papyrus and I’m nine years old.” He puts a hand to his chest in correlation with his identification before directing the same hand towards his brother. “This is my brother Sans, who is also nine years old. As you can see my brother and I are not ordinary monsters, we were made by the great mechanical genius Walter D. Gaster who looks good for his age.”

Walter laughs and WingDings snickers under his breath.

“While Father is busy at the workshop, my brother and I go to school, taught by the amazing Mrs. Dreemer,” Papyrus continues. “After school we either play with friends, do chores, or come home if Miss Sasha is present. My hobbies include tinkering, working on puzzles, practicing my fighting techniques, playing with my brother and sewing.”

All of those things sound like hobbies even his older brother Papyrus would enjoy, except perhaps that last one. At first sewing seems like an odd fit for his brother, but he decides that sewing would be a neat thing to learn and be useful.

“I enjoy reading, tinkering, socializing with friends, and playing with my little brother,” Sans adds.

“And I enjoy creating mechanical marvels that make life easier for everyone,” Walter replies. “I work most often for the people in this town, but I am also commissioned by many well to do people in the cities.”

WingDings nods his head, soaking in all the things they’re explaining about themselves. He has to admit that it feels a little strange to go about meeting people from a new world in this way. Yes, this is the way people normally meet each other, but typically when he is dropped in another world the first order of business is figuring out what he is and what to do with him.

For once, that isn’t an issue.

Either Mister Walter is strange or everyone else is the strange ones.

But not every person he meets in new worlds is trustworthy. Remembering this, WingDings quickly scans all of their souls to see if they are good almost feeling guilty for doing so since they all seem to be very nice people.

It comes as no surprise that they all possess pure souls, making him all the happier.

This entire process takes a while, meaning that the room is silent while WingDings mind processes everything as he checks their souls. When Papyrus is about to say something Walter lifts a hand stopping the young lanky skeleton. He wants to teach the boy patience, especially since he struggles with it as well.

“I’m WingDings Gaster, I am seven years old and I come from another world,” WingDings begins, seeing no reason to hide anything since there isn’t another WingDings Gaster present and they already know he isn’t from this world. “I’ve come here to find the missing pieces of my soul.” Something he should check on now that he thinks of it. Closing his eyes, WingDings tries to concentrate and feel where his soul might be. To his bafflement it feels as if a piece of his soul is everywhere around him.

What a strange sensation? All of the other times he’s been to other worlds he can at least get a vague idea of the direction the piece is in.

When he looks up at the others they are all staring at him in shock, which is a very common reaction.

“Is the fault mine,” Walter asks fearfully, leaning forward in preparation to walk towards the child and hold him tight. “Did the transfer of your essence into an unfamiliar form damage you?”

“No, I was born this way,” WingDings explains. “I’ve been to a lot of different times and places. The future, the past, under the sea. Sometimes it can be fun.” Other times not so much, but WingDings makes a point not to think about it or say anything.

“Don’t worry little brother, we’ll help you find the pieces of your soul!” Papyrus declares, standing on the couch and putting a fist to his chest. “Isn’t that right Sans.”

“Sure is,” Sans agrees.

“We will all help you,” Walter nods eagerly. “I studied souls in my younger years, perhaps I can make a device to assist you in your quest. Doctor Alphys is more adept on the subject I’m sure she would be happy to assist as well. And Papyrus don’t stand on the couch please.”

Laughing heartily Papyrus strikes one last pose before doing as his father requests.

“Thank you! I appreciate your help in this matter,” WingDings says, earning a bit of an odd look from the three, but they hide it well behind their smiles. What seven year old talks like that? “When I get the piece of my soul then I can go home,” WingDings continues. “I’m sorry I won’t get to stay with you, I’m sure you are wonderful people.”

“You don’t get to stay?” Papyrus’s sockets widen with disappointment even as Walter steps in.

“I’m sure he has a family of his own and they must be worried about him,” Walter explains wisely to his son. “We need to do our part as his foster family and assist him.”

Both sons eagerly agree making WingDings soul warm. WingDings acts on his spontaneous happiness and grabs both of their arms, hugging them to his side. “I’ll be here a while, lets have a good time!” WingDings says.

“We’ll have a great time,” Papyrus promises.

“Well have a skele-ton of fun too,” Sans grins, instantly gaining a wide eyed glare from Papyrus as WingDings laughs.

“I do hope you enjoy your time here WingDings Gaster. You have quite the yarn to tell and I look forward to hearing all of it,” Walter encourages him as he eases to his feet. “Now let’s eat, won’t be long now till Asgore and the Reverend arrive with their wigging.”

“Wigging?” WingDings asks.

“Rebuke him,” Sans explains as he slides off the couch.

“Does that happen a lot?” WingDings asks.

“Our father is a genius, but lacks self-preservation and common sense,” Papyrus declares.

“I’m wounded,” Walter laughs, pretending to hobble as if he’s been physically harmed.

“No father, I would never wound you, let me help!” Papyrus helps hold Walter up who playfully pretends to put his weight on his son as they work their way to the kitchen.

Dinner is a fun affair with Papyrus doing most of the talking as they eat. In the morning they’ll go to the school house near Toriel’s and Asgore’s ranch while Walter goes to ‘work’. There is a knock at the door while they are still eating and Asgore and the Reverend Alvin come and join them for pie. The adults talk late into the night, leaving the boys to get ready for bed on their own.

Sans winds up joining them in Papyrus’s room, reading them a bedtime story. Part way through Walter joins them and carefully takes a seat with WingDings on his mat on the floor. When Sans is finished WingDings is struggling to stay awake and doesn’t even remember being tucked in.

“Wake up lazy bones, it’s time for school!” Papyrus declares, waking WingDings from his content sleep.

“No fair,” WingDings groans, burrowing into his blankets. Before he came to this world he was on summer vacation. It isn’t fair that he has to go to school during the summer break.

“Don’t you want to grow up to be smart?” Papyrus asks, working past WingDings covers and lifting the smaller brother to his feet.

“I am smart,” WingDings mumbles, standing there with the same sturdiness of a tower of janga blocks half way through the game. Is this what every morning is going to be like?

“No, you’re asleep on your feet,” Papyrus informs him, shedding his night shirt and pulling on his clothes for the day before searching for something WingDings can wear.

“No I’m not,” WingDings grumbles.

“Yes, you are,” Papyrus puts a pile of clothes in his hands and plants his hands on his hips as he looks down at WingDings.

“I’m talking aren’t I?” WingDings grins smugly, sockets barely open.

“Sans can sleep and talk at the same time,” Papyrus replies, chin high as he reveals his profound knowledge.

“That’s impossible,” WingDings frowns in confusion.

“Which is why Sans does it,” Papyrus nods, making his way for the door. “Sans, wake up you lazy bones. Father, wake up!”

Yep, this is going happen every morning. WingDings is resigned to his fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have not edited this chapter so forgive the mistakes, I’ll get to it at some point. Also, I very much enjoy having a young Papyrus and Sans to play with in this story. None of the other stories I’ve written have them this young. The picture I included depicts them as adults, but you can get an idea of what I had in mind.


	3. Tiny Pieces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First day.

“Good morning class I’d like everyone to meet a new student of ours WingDings Gaster,” Toriel announces to the class. A chuckle vibrates through the students at hearing his strange name and WingDings makes a point of glaring at them. He’s still a little grouchy at being awake this early and he’s never taken well to children teasing him for his name, but he settles with a glare since it is only the first day. 

“Please make him feel welcomed,” Toriel informs the class, giving a lifted brow to a particular student before they can giggle any louder. “He’ll be staying with us for a short time until he finds the pieces of his missing soul.”

Hearing the words ‘missing soul’ wakes WingDings faster than a shot of caffeine does for Walters’ coffee. They told everyone? Even his classmates!? This has never happened before! He didn’t think he had to tell them to keep it a secret, what is he going to do!?!

WingDings isn’t able to panic long when a little girl of green flames raises her hand.

“Yes, Fuku child do you have a question for WingDings?” Toriel encourages the young girl.

Upon hearing his name, WingDings refocuses on the room and sees the little fire elemental sitting in the front row. The room is divided with boys on one side and girls on the other, youngest towards the front with the older towards the back.

“Does it hurt?” the young elemental asks WingDings in crackling concern, legs swinging under her chair.

“My soul?” WingDings asks, seeking clarification.

“Yes, your soul,” Fuku signs as she speaks this time when her voice becomes as soft as a diminishing flames.

“No, it doesn’t hurt,” WingDings assures her, surprised and fascinated by her simple question. He is expecting a different response. Not exactly sure what sort of response he is actually expecting, but this isn’t it. “My soul only hurts when I’m sick or attacked, but I think that’s the same for most everyone.”

Encouraged by their youngest students question and WingDings willingness to answer, several more hands shoot up as the unbridled power of children’s curiosity overtakes the room.

“Now, now there will plenty of time to ask your questions at lunch, we have learning to do,” Toriel claps her hands as everyone lowers their hands, whispering to one another and inviting a nervous discomfort to take root in WingDings.

His discomfort over their chatter proves unnecessary when at lunch he is sitting with them outside enjoying his modest meal with them. They ask him about where he came from, what the pieces of his soul look like, and how long he plans on staying. Feeling and seeing no dishonesty or darkness in the children’s souls WingDings answers their questions as best he can.

When he becomes overwhelmed with whose question to answer next Papyrus and Sans help him, directing the conversation down comfortable paths for their new young brother.

“Is this what your soul looks like deary?” the young Miss Muffet asks, skipping up to them and holding what looks to be a shimmering piece of sand. If not for the bright light it emits one might not even be able to see it. “Ahuhuhu, I found it a year ago and thought it was so pretty I picked it up and carry it in my bag everyday!”

As the spider monster holds out the tiny light in her lower hand, WingDings looks at it awestruck, unaware as the other children lean away, looking nervously at Muffet. There is a gentle warm tug in WingDings soul as he gazes at the tiny star in her violet palm. 

He smiles. “I think it is,” WingDings says and reaches forward.

Before he can take the piece and thank her she closes her fist and crosses all of her arms smugly. “What are you willing to give me for it? Auhuhuhu,” she asks, laughing daintily behind one hand.

“Muffet stop that,” Papyrus is instantly on his feet, easily towering over the nine year old girl. “That belongs to him so you should give it back.”

“And I will,” Muffet huffs, blushing even as she takes a step back. “But I found it so I should get something for it.”

Not liking where this is going WingDings stands beside Papyrus, taking his hand in his own. WingDings knew it was too good to be true, expecting children to genuinely want to assist him, but it is out of his hands. “Open your hand so I can be sure it’s mine, then we can talk,” WingDings tells her, before Papyrus can begin a speech about being great and generous.

Muffet squints her eyes at WingDings, but does as he requests, opening her palm slowly and keeping far enough back so they can’t snatch it from her. Everyone watches with wary silences, even the kid with the sniffles manages to keep quiet as WingDings undoes the upper buttons of his shirt. Feeling uneasy, WingDings pushes through it, filled with determination to get the piece of his soul without giving Muffet a thing.

Before anyone can figure out what he’s doing or stop him, WingDings pulls out his soul and the tiny piece immediately flies into his red proxy soul. There is a gentle pulse of light as WingDings returns the soul behind his clay chest piece to safety, even as the children around him begin to sputter in disbelief. One child rockets to their feet and races to the school house. “I’m telling Mrs. Tori!” they shout.

“Hey, that isn’t fair!” Muffet shouts, reaching towards him once she’s recovered from her shock.

Papyrus steps in front of WingDings defensively even as an impish grin tips the corner of WingDings mouth. “It wasn’t fair to demand something for a piece of his soul,” Papyrus tells her. “It’s rude.”

“Look at his face, he’s the mean one,” Muffet stomps her foot, but steps back, intimidated by Papyrus even though he doesn’t make any move to harm her. “You’re all a bunch of Honey-fuggled good for nothings. Spiders make for better company than you do!” The young girl stomps off and only then does WingDings notice a small muffin spider familiar trailing along beside her.

“Don’t mind her,” Sans finally speaks up. “She only likes spiders anyway.”

WingDings doesn’t doubt it, but his mind is already skipping along to his next problem. This piece of his soul is a lot smaller than they usually are. Typically they are the size of a small rock or bark chip, but this was the size of a grain of sand.

“Is everything all right out here?” Toriel makes an appearance after all the excitement is over. Such a strange world, they don’t have adults constantly hovering to watch over their children. WingDings kind of likes it since he doubts he would have been able to get away with taking out his soul like that back home.

“Everything is all right Mrs. Toriel,” Papyrus declares, picking up his handkerchief from lunch. “My new brother just found a piece of his soul courtesy of Muffet.”

“Oh, how delightful, that was very kind of her,” Toriel announces immediately earning looks of disgust from the other children. They do their best to hide their feelings from the adult they all secretly adore.

After class Papyrus and Sans take WingDings into town with little Fuku. “What are we going to do now?” WingDings asks, looking around and feeling really confused. Yesterday he noticed how strange his soul felt in this town, but it kind of feels like the piece of his soul is everywhere! That doesn’t make any sense and it bothers him a lot.

“We will deliver little Fuku to her family and then we will go find . . .” Papyrus is cut off when he is attacked from behind by a blue blur with fiery red hair.

Thinking the worse WingDings attempts to summon his hands and grabs at the monster clamped onto Papyrus’s back, but he doesn’t have bone magic in this world so it sputters about him uselessly. Papyrus lets out a shrill Nyeh heh, while the other monster laughs manically. This is WingDings first clue that his new brother is not in danger, but he still goes ahead and yanks the attacker off Papyrus’s back by grabbing onto her waist.

“Got ya PapyRUUSSS,” the young monster lands in the dirt of the road as WingDings drags her down, getting a little dirty himself. He hates dirt, but sacrifices must be made when protecting his new brother.

“Woah woah, hey now,” Sans picks WingDings up and puts him behind him, placing himself as a barrier between them. “WingDings this is Undyne, she does this everyday.”

“Gee, what the hell, think yer a regular curly wolf now don’t ya,” she perks up, not minding the dirt and in a nimble hop is on her feet. She grabs her wild red hair out of her face and does her best to tie back the unruly mane. “What I ever do tah you?”

“Sorry?” WingDings shrugs, not really meaning it.

“Are you okay?” Fuku asks, sticking close to Sans as she leans daintily towards the bigger girl.

“Yeah, yeah, fine as cream gravy,” Undyne pouts, folding her arms overs her chest and not bothering to dust off the dirt clinging to her clothes.

“You weren’t in class today,” Papyrus says completely undeterred. It’s his relaxed demeanour that convinces WingDings that this young spunky dirty blue monster is in fact Undyne. “Mrs. Toriel is going to be mighty displeased when she sees you again.”

“School ain’t gunna teach me how to fight,” Undyne points out.

“And skipping class teaches you to fight?” Sans points out wisely.

“Hobble your lip,” Undyne complains and looks at WingDings. “Don’t think you’ll get me next time dolly. I’ll be ready fer ya.”

“I won’t try,” WingDings assures her, now that he knows who she is he has no reason to fight her. “I only fight when absolutely necessary.”

“Please don’t fight,” Fuku says with a soft crackle.

“This ain’t fightin’ it’s . . .” Undyne scratches her hair, tongue peeking out between her jagged teeth. “It’s uh.” When Undyne swiftly becomes frustrated when the word she wants doesn’t come because fight is the only word she wants, the bully reaches over and grabs at Papyrus, nooging him. “Aaaahhhggg, it is what it is!”

“Nyeh!” Papyrus squirms, pulling at Undyne’s arms until she releases him.

“A dis-cussion,” Sans offers earning a swift glare from Papyrus even as WingDings snickers.

“Yeah, that’s it a discussion,” Undyne eagerly agrees.

“A discussion that can lead to a concussion apparently,” WingDings giggles as Fuku stares at them all naively.

“Wait, what does that have to do with this . . . are you trying to pull one over with me,” Undyne questions as Papyrus glares at Sans, eye lights fizzling like a spark from a fraying wire.

“Aw, com'on Papy, no need to skull-k,” Sans says, unbothered by the display.

Papyrus sockets quickly take on a bug eyed look, making that sputtering light more obvious in his large sockets.

“Careful brother, might o-brain a migraine with that look,” Sans continues.

“Enough!” Papyrus shouts, stomping a foot hard into the ground even as Undyne and WingDings giggle. “We’re going to continue down this dirty road and we’re going to forget about horrible puns and deliver Fuku home safely. Come Fuku, don’t let your mind be poisoned by him.”

The dutiful Papyrus offers his hand to Fuku who eagerly accepts and scampers along with Papyrus.

“Ah well guess the gig is up,” Sans mourns without appearing all that unhappy about it.

“Goodbye Undyne, it was nice meeting you,” WingDings quickly moves to catch up to Papyrus as Sans saunters at his own steady pace behind them all.

“Bye, see ya soon,” Undyne says waving wildly after them, all ill intent vanishing in her glorious sharp smile.

And then Sans nearly ruins it. “See ya at school,” he mocks her.

“Over my dead body,” Undyne swears and with that she goes tramping off down the grimy street.

WingDings picks up his feet a little faster, only stumbling a few times on his strange legs as he attempts to catch up to Papyrus’s longer strides. Sans is somehow right behind him, offering a steady hand to keep him from toppling over as they come alongside the others. When they reach the main little hub of the town, they cross the street and hop up to the wood planks that make up the front of the towns very own Saloon. 

Now WingDings has never been to the old west before and has no idea what this particular building is for, but he follows the others undeterred. Inside, the saloon is rather barren of people, but it is warm and smells of cooking food. There are tables and chairs spaced perfectly, an upright player piano against the back wall, and a wrap around bar where two fire elementals are organizing glasses and bottles.

One of the elementals WingDings recognizes as Grillby, but he is a much shorter and younger version of Grillby.

“Thank ya as always Papyrus,” the taller cyan colored elemental crackles. He is wearing a pin stripe vest on top of a simple white shirt, an apron neatly tied around his waist. Compared to some of the wardrobe choices of the other folk in town, he looks rather dapper. “Would you like some milk?” he asks them.

“Yes please, we would enjoy some milk,” Papyrus declares, taking a seat at the bar with the other children following his example.

When WingDings appears in between Sans and Papyrus, the adult sparks with surprise, before offering a flickering grin. “Why I reckon you must be the young WingDings I been hearing tale ‘bout ‘round town,” they say, turning to Grillby and speaking to him in their crackling tongue. He basically asks him to get the tougher mugs and the milk that came in fresh that morning. “How old are ya?”

“I’m seven,” WingDings answers. “What’s your name.”

“Most round here call me Flarin’,” he says, taking the three mugs from Grillby and placing them in front of each of them. “Plan on stayin’ long?” 

“No,” WingDings answers honestly.

“He’s here looking for pieces of his soul,” Papyrus continues for WingDings as Flarin looks rather dumbfound by the young boys rather prompt answer. “When he has what he’s looking for he can return home to his family.”

Flarin and Grillby look rightfully confused.

As WingDings enjoys his glass of milk, Papyrus continues to elaborate on his behalf, Explaining that WingDings is a wandering soul that just so happens to be possessing one of their fathers creations.

“Muffet found a little piece of ‘es soul at school,” Sans explains, finishing off the last of his milk. “Very tiny, like a piece of glowing glass.”

“Glowing glass?” Grillby repeats with a crackling tongue.

“It is beautiful!” Papyrus explains with sparks in his sockets. “WingDings soul is a brilliant red and the piece is like a glistening cut of sand catching the sun just right.”

When WingDings realizes that Papyrus is complimenting his soul he blushes a bright red, hiding a little behind his empty glass and the lip of the counter. Young Papyrus really just comes out and says whatever is on his mind, which is nice, but just a tad embarrassing.

“If you can ask around about it, we’d ‘preciate it,” Sans continues, glancing briefly at WingDings, but not drawing attention to the small doll boy.

“I sure will, count on it. By the end of the night the ol’ burg ‘ill be lookin’ out for ‘em soul pieces,” Flarin says as Grillby sets a mug down and wanders off towards the back and through the door. The father watches him a moment and turns to apologize. “Sorry Grilbs iz so offish, he’s a good kid,” the father excuses his son’s sudden disappearance with an air that shows he’s said these very words more often than he likes.

“Big brother is quiet,” Fuku chirps, wiggling upright on her chosen stool so she can be a part of the conversation.

“Is fine,” Sans shrugs as he slides off the chair, Papyrus doing the same.

WingDings doesn’t move though, looking towards the back door just as Grillby returns with a trinket of some kind. In his chest, WingDings soul flutters in anticipation as Grillby walks forward with what looks to be a metal or tin flower with diamonds set in the center. Upon closer inspection it is revealed to be a broach, with a tiny piece of his soul nestled between the diamonds.

“Like this?” the flame asks with quiet sizzles.

“Yes, just like that!” WingDings buzzes, hands reaching for the broach even as Grillby shyly folds his fingers over it protectively.

“Mother’s broach,” Grillby explains, halting the child's eager hands from taking the prized item.

“I just want my soul, you can keep the broach,” WingDings explains, hoping this will appease the gentle flame. As the boy rubs his foot into the floor, he does his best to hide his disappointment and fear. The world hopping WingDings knew this would happen after all, even this world’s citizens couldn’t be that nice. He’s probably going to have to steal it somehow, which is horrible, but what choice does he have? He has to . . . he just has to get . . . 

WingDings doesn’t need to continue these uncomfortable thought as Grillby nods his consent with a small jagged smile and offers the broach from behind his fiery fingers.

Blinking in rapid succession several times, WingDings attempts to scatter his thoughts as he slowly takes the precious broach in his own dainty fingers, fearful that Grillby might change his mind and take it back. Instead Grillby only smiles and kneels down as to not crowed WingDings or intimidate him. Whether WingDings realizes it or not, this simple act helps ease his suspicions and allows his red soul to emerge from his doll body.

Having his soul out in the open makes WingDings feel momentarily exposed and uncomfortable, but having Grillby there . . . he feels only protection.

With a gentle tug, the tiny speck of light returns to WingDings soul. He feels a kind of shiver, like gentle tiny bells shimmering through his magic as what he’s lost is returned. Sighing in relief, WingDings beams joyfully at the fire monster, able to look just a tad upward with Grillby crouching down. “Thank you so much,” without thinking WingDings launches himself forward and hugs Grillby tight.

At first Grillby flinches, but he recovers quickly and returns the hug. “You’re welcome,” he pops softly, a warm hand lightly patting WingDings clay head.

“I think this broach was loved, or the one who had it,” WingDings says a little bashfully as he returns the precious item.

“She was,” Grillby admits after a pause, accepting the trinket back and standing to his feet.

“Well, bless my stars, I would a never thunk something like this would happen,” Flarin’ says brushing a burning tear from his eye. Before any of the children can ask if the father is feeling alright the tough man straightens the cuffs of his sleeves and clears his throat. “Like I said, I’ll let the town know tah keep n’ eye peeled for that there soul pieces of yers. Count on it.”

“Thank you,” WingDings dips his head politely as his new brother’s echo their thanks beside him. After saying goodbye and wishing them a good evening they return home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I started this particular story two years ago and only finished it this past December. This chapter was the root of the problem, which is funny because when I actually sat down and wrote it I enjoyed it. Funny how the mind works. Can thank the ‘Gaster’s Followers’ Discord for this story finally getting finished and this chapter in particular.


	4. Four Cookies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much to say this time around, just more explanations and a plan going forward for our little family in this chapter. I like that Walter knows a bit more about WingDings soul than he or his brothers back home do, but Walter doesn’t explain anything since that isn’t what is important in the moment. He isn’t trying to withhold information, he’s just a bit scatter brained and focused on making this machine for WingDings.

Once the trio make it home they greet Sasha who immediately chases them out of the kitchen when their little hands get a little too close to dinner. Giggling and laughing, WingDings chases after Papyrus and Sans as they get away, even as Sans reaches under his shirt and produces three cookies he managed to snag on his way out. After being thoroughly reprimanded by Papyrus for stealing the cookies, Sans manages to convince him that no harm has been done and they all sit on the porch munching away and doing their very best not to drop a single crumb of Sasha’s delicious cookies.

When Walter returns he finds them licking their fingers as best they can without tongues, grinning up at him with pieces of almonds in their teeth. WingDings finds it strange that his soul is fluttering again, but there doesn’t appear to be any pieces of his soul around.

“Now . . .” Walter looks down at his children, holding back a chuckle and smile. “You three wouldn’t happen to know of any cookie thieves in this town would you?” he asks playfully.

Sans and WingDings shake their heads in the negative while Papyrus wiggles nervously and looks everywhere but at his father.

“Sasha gave them to us,” Sans lies with a shrug and a wink. “I mean it’s not like she said don’t touch the cookies.”

Walter shakes his head. “Just for that you’re apologizing to Sasha and if you don’t, no dinner,” Walter says still smiling as he moves past them.

“Aww, not that,” Sans lazily falls back even as WingDings desperately jumps onto his feet and races into the house before Walter can even step inside.

With a haste that nearly send him sailing past the kitchen door, WingDings grabs the door frame and practically yells at the woman. “Sasha I’m really sorry I ate you’re delicious cookie, it’s one of the best things I’ve ever tasted in my life and it’s sweet like you!” WingDings quickly recites in one breath. There is no way he’s missing out on Sasha’s cooking because Sans lied. He doesn’t know if Walter would really take away his dinner, but he doesn’t want to risk it!

Standing there a moment in a stupor Sasha stares at him, repeating his words again mentally before figuring it out. “Well it was purdy obvious I had a cookie snatcher in my kitchen when I had three less almond butters on my sheet,” Sasha sniffs, shaking her head. “I forgive you sweet pea.”

WingDings sighs in relief. He’ll get dinner tonight!

“I am very sorry as well Miss Sasha, I was less than great when I ate it but your cookies taste so wonderful I could not resist,” Papyrus echoes beside them. “And it was Sans fault anyway.”

“Hey, that ain’t nice bro,” Sans says with such a lazy smile it’s obvious he isn’t really that hung up about it. “Sorry Sasha, it’s good cookies.”

“You’re all forgiven, I’ll just have to hide them better next time,” Sasha sighs. “You sure apologized quickly fer once, normally I have to wait till I’m hiding peas in yer brownies.”

“Walter said we wouldn’t get dinner,” WingDings says and he doesn’t see the wince on Walter’s faces as he reveals this.

“Aw, sweet pea, that silly coot was just teasin’ ya, he always says that and will always feed ya,” Sasha assures him.

“She’s right, I’m sorry I scared you WingDings,” Walter leans down a bit and lightly rubs his newest sons head. “I’ll try to be more careful. So . . .” The older man trails off, a crooked grin pinching one half as his face before he scoops down suddenly and picks up Papyrus and Sans, one under each arm. 

As soon as Sans and Papyrus are snagged they laugh and whoop as the older human spins around with them.

“WALTER, ya old crooked piece of bark, yer poor back, be careful!” Sasha warns him in vain as WingDings gleefully dances around the trio.

“Don’t you worry Sasha, bones don’t weigh much!” Walter says with a spin.

“They ain’t just bone, they’re metal,” Sasha huffs. “If you go an throw a disk I ain’t carryin’ ya again ya hear.”

“Aw, well we can’t have that,” Walter slows down and walks through the narrow kitchen to the table, plopping a giggling Sans and Papyrus on the bench as WingDings squeezes himself between them happily. Making himself a part of this family in his own way.

“Now, boy’s I’ve heard and seen lips whispering of your adventures today, why don’t you tell me ‘bout it before we sup?” Walter says and Papyrus launches into a detailed retelling of the day with WingDings popping in commentary with just as much gusto.

As they talk Sans lays his head across the table, smiling and offering hums of approval, while Walter listens with rapt attention.

There is only one point that Walter becomes contemplative, his eyes drifting to the side every so often in thought, but it doesn’t last long as he refocuses on Papyrus. He doesn’t interrupt and only when Papyrus is finished can the human get a word in anyway.

“You’ve had quite the first day, can you describe what these pieces of soul looked like for me, more thoroughly this time,” Walter explains.

Sitting up straighter Papyrus answers, only this time his face is schooled into pensive concentration, the bits of metal somehow contorting to show just how serious he is about this description he’s about to present. “It is no bigger than a piece of dust, perhaps even smaller,” Papyrus describes accurately. “But it’s hard to tell it’s exact size since the piece is so bright. The piece flickers with WingDings soul, like a star.”

“Dad, I think I’ve seen something like it before,” Sans speaks up, Papyrus nodding beside him. “I always thought they were just pieces of sand blown in from the waste, but WingDings soul pieces are brighter than reflecting glass or rock. I always thought they were strange.” Gone is Sans lazy half finished words. Instead he speaks clearly so he is not misunderstood.

“I’ve seen these pieces as well,” Walter says reaching down and checking the large pockets of his heavy tanned apron. “I actually have collected them over the years, ever since I arrived to this town before you boys were dug from the grave.” After a little digging Walter finds what he is looking for and produces a small vile, filled part way with tiny pieces of light.

“Those are mine!” WingDings says standing to his feet on the bench. “But . . . why didn’t you say so?”

“I had a suspicion these were yours, but to be honest I had hoped they were not,” Walter says, shaking his head and forcing a twitching smile on his face. “Here you go, they are yours after all.” Carefully Walter pulls out the cork in the small glass container and hands it to WingDings.

WingDings doesn’t even need to dip the small glass, as soon as the pieces of his soul are within a hands width of his chest they float out the top, swirling like fairy light in front of him. With an inaudible hum, WingDings soul emerges and the orbiting pieces of WingDings soul return. Taking a ghosts breath, WingDings relaxes, letting his soul return to his puppet vessels chest cavity before returning the glass to Walter.

“Thank you Walter,” WingDings says sincerely.

“You’re welcome WingDings,” Walter nods and accepts the returned flask.

“You said you hoped these weren’t his soul, but I know you father and you would be happy to return WingDings soul to him,” Papyrus explains astutely. “So how is this a bad thing, you need to explain more clearly.” Like father like son, the need to explain things clearly is important.

“I suppose I do,” Walter agrees, leaning back in his chair as he tries to find the words. His eyes dart around the ceiling, as if the words are there and he just needs to snatch them from above his head. Mumbling a few things under his breath, Walter talks to himself before stopping and addressing his sons again.

“It will be impossible to find all of the pieces of WingDings soul,” Walter explains.

Impossible?

When those words sink in WingDings eyes glow red.

“I need all of them, I can’t leave without them,” WingDings explains a clipped buzz threatening to break loose.

“Yes, I realize that, it’s more than just needing them to return home, you’ll need them to survive to adulthood,” Walter explains, hefting himself off the back of the chair and slouching forward, leaning heavily on the table. “These pieces are so tiny, so scattered, it would be impossible for us to gather them all, even if the whole town rallies together to find ‘em. The wind has taken your soul fragments to far off place, some place we probably cannot go.”

“Then . . . then I’m stuck here?! Till I die?!” WingDings soul drops, his sockets becoming pits of black as he thinks back to the Beast world and how long he was stuck living there. This would be a lot longer though. He wants to see his brothers again. His older annoying coddling wonderful kind brothers!

Before WingDings can dart away, Sans catches him and draws an arm around WingDings. In this way WingDings remains where he is, finding some comfort in his other brothers arm.

“Dad, there’s gotta be something you can do,” Sans says, his sockets glowing with convictions.

“If anyone can find a way, it is you,” Papyrus agrees, no doubt in his skull. A strong belief that cannot be shaken.

“And I shall, as the greatest mind in the country I’ll just find a way to bring these pieces of soul directly to WingDings!” Walter says as if he didn’t suggest something ridiculous. If there were a way to bring his pieces to him, wouldn’t his brothers back home have found a way by now? “Oh don’t look so doubtful WingDings. If I could draw in your soul by mistake than I certainly can find the rest of you on purpose.” Walter winks at him, a spark of red in his eye as he looks at the table and excitedly explains his plan.

From there Walter launches into a rambled explanation of how he’s going to build a machine that will pull in WingDings soul pieces from wherever they are hiding in this world. The machine will act like a magnet or vacuum, drawing only the pieces of WingDings soul and nothing else. Of course Walter will also need to construct some sort of container for WingDings so he doesn’t get pulled it with all the pieces and it will need to be comfortable too since he wishes no harm on the boy.

As Walter, Papyrus, Sans, and WingDings bounce ideas around the table Sasha moves around them, placing food around and wordlessly encouraging them to eat something. Every once in a while she interrupts their eager conversation with logic and sense, which is quite necessary with this slightly eccentric family. Sasha stays for dinner, gladly partaking of the meal and conversation, shaking her head fondly at the endearing fools.


	5. Our Town

In the morning WingDings wakes with Papyrus rolling him out of the bed and getting him ready. Since WingDings isn’t a morning person he hardly does a thing as Papyrus helps dress him, get him down the stairs, and puts a plate of food in front of him.

So when WingDings finally is awake he’s rather surprised he’s already at the school house with Toriel calling on him to answer a simple math equation. WingDings does as he is asked, but goes above and beyond by writing several other problems down to make it clear he is on another level than the rest.

Toriel reprimands him a little for taking his time, but can’t help praise him for his correct math equations. The school day passes without much of interest happening in WingDings opinion. Aside from Muffet hissing at him several times and Undyne being dropped on the floor kicking and screaming, the day of simple school is rather boring.

After school though it’s different. As Sans and Papyrus escort Fuku home an old hobbling woman steps up to them, calling for them across the street. “Gaster boy’s, don’t move so fast,” she calls to them in a rickety voice that matches the creek of an old rocking chair. “I got something special for you boys!”

Seeing as all three are very good and respectable Gaster boy’s they respectfully stop as the old lady has requested. WingDings knows before she’s even crossed the street that she has something that belongs to him as his soul dances within his otherwise hollow chest cavity.

“Good afternoon!” Papyrus says loudly, louder than his usual decibel, so the old lady might hear him clearly. “How are you today Granny Jerra.”

“Oh, I’m fine, I’m fine, bless you boys,” she reaches out with a shaking hand and fondly rubs each of their skulls. Even when she comes to Fuku and WingDings she doesn’t hesitate, despite one being made of fire and the other being new to town. From there she launches into a somewhat long winded explanation as to why she is here, all without actually saying why she has flagged them down. 

“You must be WingDings,” she begins with a smile that defiantly pushes upward despite the deep wrinkles around her lips. “I heard bout’ your story from them Hickery boys. You must have been so scared to wake up in Gaster’s workshop. A frightful shock indeed for one so young. But don’t you worry, Walter is a good man, he’ll take good care of you . . . why I remember when I first met him, he helped install them new fancy lights in my home. Such a nice man. Oh but I needn’t keep you long wagging this thin tongue of mine, I have something for you!”

As a reward for reaching the end of her speech, Granny Jerra produces a grain of star light from her pocket to the antsy young people. To everyone’s shock it isn’t just one piece of WingDings soul, but several tiny pieces. Granny pulls out a diamond bracelet and in each glass crystal is a piece of his soul.

“My Frank gave me this on our twentieth anniversary,” Granny Jerra explains, looking fondly at the jewelry shining in her shaky palm. “He went out himself to find yer there pieces of your soul to make these diamonds glisten, but e’ didn’t know it were yer soul at the time. If he’d been alive I’m sure he’d wantcha to have it back.” With a trembling hand she hoeds the bracelet forward, a gesture which is enough to summon WingDings soul from it’s hiding place.

The old woman’s squinting eyes open wider as she puts effort in looking at what floats in front of her. “Good gracious, that is a beautiful soul,” she croons in reverence.

Blushing brightly, WingDings doesn’t bother reaching out to take the bracelet from her as the diamond’s light ripple free of their stone cages and waft towards the soul that calls to them. With held breath, everyone nearby watches as the pieces vanish into his red soul and returns to his chest. There is the distant howl of the wind and staggering protest of a horse, but other than that the dirty street of the towns central hub is respectfully quiet.

“By the angel, what a blessed sight,” the old woman says with tears in her eyes.

WingDings feels rightfully bashful, having never been the recipient of such praise and wonder ever before and so hides tightly against Sans side. “Thank you Ma’am, I really appreciate it,” he says past the buzz and click of his lips.

“Oh bless you child, you have such a hard road ahead of you,” she says wisely, doing her best to dry her eyes with her shawl. “I’m glad there was something I could do even in my old age to help. It’s an honor.”

Bewildered by her words WingDings can only nod, doing his best to remain respectful as he’s been taught, while puzzling over her kindness.

As they thank the old woman and say their goodbyes, the group of children once more trek towards the Saloon. What normally is a short trip takes much longer as one citizen after another comes up to them, greeting them and gifting WingDings the sight of some of their most prized possessions. Granny Jerra was only the start of the wheel of kindness eagerly rolling WingDings way as the citizens of this dry town scour their homes for the prized pieces of light and return them to their source.

By the seventh person WingDings is unable to hold back his tears. He has never felt this amount of overflowing love and kindness from this many strangers before all at once. They each have such wonderful stories to tell him. Wishing him the best and blessing him with encouragement and honesty.

The seven year old doesn’t know what to do with all these emotions, racing into the Saloon and hiding behind the counter of Flarin’s bar. Overwhelmed with emotion and with no where to put these feelings except his soul, WingDings hides as best he can. Never has his soul been out in the open more times than it has today and never has it been so honest perhaps with his young confused feelings of joy. 

At first everyone is rightly worried, but Flarin puts his bar into order and allows WingDings a safe place to calm down near his well placed feet. There is only one person the man allows past his defence and that is Fuku, sitting beside WingDings and doing her very best to play little games with him so he won’t be sad.

“I’m not sad,” WingDings tries to explain to the girl. “I’m happy.”

“Then why are you crying?” she asks, letting him hold her favorite doll.

“Because my feelings had to come out and tears come out sometimes whether you want them to or not,” he explains, reciting his elder brothers wisdom.

“Oh, I think I know what you mean,” she says, reaching forward with a brush made of horse hair and running it through the dolls hair. She might not know what he really means, but that’s alright, WingDings is just glad she’s quiet and is there beside him.

When WingDings has calmed, Sans and Papyrus retrieve him and smuggle him out of the back door. As they walk WingDings knows they have a piece of his soul with them, but they don’t take it out till they’re in the safety of their home.

To WingDings amazement they pull out a small jar with little pieces of his soul resting like golden sand on the bottom. While WingDings hid behind the counter Sans and Papyrus worked together to collect all the pieces the towns folk were offering and put it in an old jam jar Flamin had on hand. Tears once more threaten to stream down WingDings face, but he manages to keep it together as the dozens of tiny soul fragments are returned to him.

“Oh you’re home,” Sasha comes into the living space carrying a different jar. A jar that just so happens to be also be filled with more soul fragments.

“WHAT!?!” WingDings is on his feet, soul pattering like millions of tiny feet as he rushes over to Sasha. His eyes and soul do not lie, these too are pieces of his wayward soul. “Where did you get these?”

“They aren’t mine,” Sasha hums a chuckle opening the jar and allowing the sparks to return to WingDings soul. The tiny lights dance like dust caught in rays of sunlight as they drift and float into WingDings buzzing soul. “All day people been knockin’ at the door with this or that, knick-knacks and whacha-ma-callets, all with tiny pieces of your soul. At first I thought I’d have a jar of random treasures, but we managed to get the little pieces out.”

“Woowee, so people have been coming to our house too!” Papyrus says, coming up behind WingDings and picking him. WingDings laughs as Papyrus spins him around the room like a low flying helicopter. “I’m so happy for you WingDings.”

WingDings laughs with musical beeps and buzzes, holding onto Papyrus’s arms for dear life and uncaring of how close they come to hitting something, even as Sasha frets close by. When they nearly knock over a lamp though the fun is over and Papyrus sets the giggling WingDings down to the floor. “I wish I could thank them all, but . . .” WingDings trails off, pressing his lips as he thinks of how to word this without sound ungrateful. “It’s a lot of attention and it makes me uncomfortable. I don’t think I’ve been anywhere that’s been so kind? A least not a place where every single person is so generous.”

The three listen and Papyrus and Sans become quiet, not really sure what to say, but Papyrus doesn’t like the quiet so speaks anyway. “Well of course they’re kind, Our Town is the best town there is,” Papyrus says proudly.

“Our Town is the best,” Sasha agrees. “I’m glad we could all help ya WingDings, this town is a special place. I came ‘ere down on my luck and they took me in. I think everyone in this town started out as an outcast and found a family here. That’s why they’re so generous. This place changed their life and now they want to change yours.”

“Oh, hmm,” WingDings remains thoughtful, knowing he’s being told something important, but he just doesn’t understand it. Not yet anyway. There is one thing that confuses him the most. “You talk as if this place is named ‘Our Town.’” 

“That’s because it is,” Sans chuckles.

“You’re making a joke,” WingDings claims, used to his brothers humor.

“I’m not joking . . . this time,” Sans winks.

“Asgore, the founder, named the town,” Sasha explains shaking her head. “He’s terrible with names, but no one can think of a better name. It really fits.” With a chuckle she returns to the kitchen. “Back to work, already behind on dinner with all them people showing up.”

For the remainder of the afternoon the boys are kept busy answering the door. WingDings does his best to thank every person and listen to their story, but he has to take a break every once in awhile, overcome with those pesky emotions again. He likes to think of himself as the smartest, most logical child on the planet, but these tears are a reminder that he still has very real feelings that cannot be ignored.

In the coming days WingDings receives visits from lots of monsters and a few humans. ‘Our Home’ is mostly a monster community, the natives of the land with humans slowly trickling in to find work or find a safe place while down on their luck. They are all so friendly, eagerly hearing WingDings story, and sharing their own.

One night after over a week of being in this world, WingDings stares up at Papyrus’s ceiling, the dark disturbing his mind. They don’t have reliable electricity and depend on lanterns most nights, but it costs a lot of money for the oil, meaning WingDings has to use his own soul as a light source on nights like these where his feelings and thoughts threaten to overwhelm him.

“You should be sleeping WingDings,” Papyrus tells him from the bed, eye lights tinted with copper light as he gazes down with concern.

“Can’t, it’s too dark,” WingDings says, glancing up only a moment to see Papyrus’s faded light before looking at his red soul again. He’d prefer not to look at the broken heart, but when it’s this or darkness it really isn’t a difficult decision.

“You’re scared of the dark?” Papyrus asks in surprise, even as WingDings rolls over to look away from him and hide as best he can in his small body.

Really it isn’t such a big deal that a seven year old is scared of the dark, but the sleep over he went to showed him that children are cruel when it comes to night lights and being scared of things unseen.

“It’s okay to be scared,” Papyrus says as softly as he can. Despite the cold bite in the air Papyrus slides out of his bed and climbs on the mat behind WingDings. “I don’t tell just anyone this but even the great Papyrus get’s scared sometime.”

“You’re just saying that so I feel better,” WingDings sighs.

“I am! I want you to feel better,” Papyrus agrees unashamed in a whispering shout. “Can I hug you, because . . . well I’m scared of the dark too.”

WingDings twists his head back, eye lights glowing. “You are?” WingDings asks in surprise. He never thought his brother was scared of anything. He’s always so cool and in control, but this version of him is much younger so perhaps that is the reason?

“I am sometimes, but that’ okay, the dark can’t hurt us, it just get’s lonely sometimes,” Papyrus says as WingDings turns around and hugs his other brother. “Sometimes I talk to the darkness, so it knows I’m there. I don’t think the darkness can see that well. Nyeheh, so I try to keep it company.”

“That’s really cool bro,” WingDings giggles, dismissing his soul and leaning against Papyrus with their eye lights offering a gentle glow between them.

“Cool? I’m not that cold, I might be undead, but I like to think I’m very warm,” Papyrus says with concerned confusion.

“Sorry, I mean you’re awesome,” he says, shaking his head and humming in amusement.

“I do try,” Papyrus preens. “Now, let me teach you how to talk to the dark, if you talk with them maybe you can be friends!”

WingDings rather doubts he could ever be friends with darkness, but he can’t say no to Papyrus so he does his best to ‘talk to the dark’ anyway. After speaking as long as he can, WingDings drifts to sleep with Papyrus, tuckered out. One thing is certain, the dark, and Papyrus, are very good listeners.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very sweet chapter and I got a little lazy with their lingo, but the ideas I wanted to include are there and that's good enough. I can’t think of another world WingDings goes to with this much kindness, which really sets this place apart. My favorite scene though is the last one with the dark and Papyrus. Very short, but so cute.


	6. Bone Orchard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little warning that death is mentions in this chapter, but I do my best to keep it light.

Over the weekend all the children of Our Town are pretty much free to do whatever they want. Free to play and make mistakes with the proper adults finding out later. It shocks WingDings that the kids are left to their own devices most of the time without adult supervision, the complete opposite of what he’s used to where there is an adult watching every couple steps.

Papyrus, Sans, and WingDings are in the process of running away from Undyne as they play tag in Farmer Jen’s field. For helping weed her garden bed they were each given a penny, but now that they are finished they are free to play on the farm as long as no one gets hurt.

So all the fun and games come to an end when Undyne insists on defying gravity and lands on her face for her efforts. She insists that a bloody nose is nothing, but the other children aren’t convinced. There fun ends with Undyne being treated back at Jen’s farmhouse with the other children running off to find other forms of entertainment. Papyrus insists on waiting for Undyne, so they wait on the porch until their bandaged fool of a friend reveals herself.

“You needen of waited Papyrus, this is nothing,” she points to her banged nose, her face broken into two parts by the bandage wrapped around her head to properly cover the already nearly none existent nose.

“You broke it again didn’t you?” Papyrus places his hands on his hips and taps his foot.

“Yeah, whats it to ya,” she lightly punches his partially metal arm. She probably would have punched it harder if she could, but past experience has taught her that metal is one thing that will hurt her before she can hurt it. “I’m not like ya, just go to yer pops and get a new arm if it breaks.”

“The bones still have to heal,” Papyrus reminds her, walking beside her as she heads off back towards town.

“Why do you have metal and bones?” WingDings asks as he patters up alongside Papyrus, falling into step between the brothers.

“They avn’t told ya yet?” Undyne asks in surprised, before grinning ear to ear and launching into their story. “They wasn’t born like normal folk, crazy old man Walter decided he wanted kids and instead a doin’ it the normal way, he went and dug himself up two skeleton babes from the bone orchard. They had no markers so he brought ‘em back to life!”

“Pastor Alvin didn’t like that very much, but Dad didn’t realize he’d done anything wrong or strange until after he gave us pieces of his soul,” Sans explains, his smile twisting a little higher as he watches WingDings eyes get as large as dinner plates.

“Why? Is bringing back the dead bad?” WingDings asks.

“It isn’t, but desecrating the dead is,” Papyrus explains readily. “I don’t know what a crate has to do with it, but Father felt so awful about it that he didn’t sleep for days and confessed his sin for months afterward.”

“Pretty sure it was our crying that kept him up,” Sans muses, as Undyne raises a brow at Papyrus.

“Ya do know what desecratin’ means, doncha Papyrus?” Undyne asks.

“No, do you?” Papyrus ask, genuinely curious of the answer.

“Yeah, I know what it means,” Undyne declares brashly. “It means to make something up all pretty like with holly and ribbon and pretty stuff.

“. . . That’s decorating Undyne,” Sans corrects calmly. “Yer, just blowing your bazoo.”

“Am not! I knew what is were I was just checkin’ tah make sure you all knew,” Undyne claims, blushing bright and drawing her hands over her chest.

“It means to violate a rule or law,” WingDings answers kicking a stone and sending it skidding over the trodden dirt road. “Or to disrespect something sacred.”

All three children look down at WingDings as if he’s just spoken in tongues and sprouted another head.

It really is no surprise that Undyne is the first to speak .“You sound like my old man,” she makes a face.

“Woowee, you know a lot of neat words,” Papyrus praises him, making WingDings blush.

“You do a lot of reading?” Sans asks.

“I hate reading,” WingDings makes a face. “And writing, but I like sounding smart and knowing more than everyone else.” The child presses his lips together in an impish grin, sockets pinched upward with glee.

“Tink yer smart eh, well how ‘bout now?” Undyne barrels past Papyrus and reaches over to pick WingDings up and hang him upside down her back.

“HEY, PUT ME DOWN!” WingDings yells, his voice buzzing and beeping in alarm.

“No can do!” Undyne laughs manically, racing down the street with his new brothers giving chase. “No smarty farty gunna out smart me Fufufufu!!!”

They race up and down the main drag several times and by the end of it they are covered in a fine brown powder of dry dirt. WingDings also has a perpetual scowl of indifference etched on his smooth face. 

Eventually Undyne’s old man Gerson grabs hold of them. As they stand in front of old man Gerson looking mighty grungy he only laughs and holds a bucket of water above their heads. WingDings has enough time to close his eyes as the old turtle dumps the water over him and Undyne to rid them of the filth. “I fail to see how that showed you were smarter than me?” WingDings huffs moodily.

“I didn’t, but I feel better now!” Undyne cheers as her turn comes again and she’s dumped with water. “Yahooo! I had a great day today Old Man.”

“Sure looks that way, kiddo,” Gerson chuckles with a grainy voice that sound like it might break off at any point, like an old music box loosing momentum after playing a tune to long. The old turtle hands Sans and Papyrus a thick broom like brush instead of dumping waters over their heads like WingDings and Undyne. “Glad you had fun, but ya gave the burg a fright draggin’ lil’ WingDings behind ya like a tattered worn cloak.”

“Ah he’s fine, look at him,” Undyne swings an arm around WingDings neck even as he pouts up at her with mild frustration. “He even still has ‘is nose.”

“Not like either of us really have a nose,” WingDings reminds her, gaining a chortle from the old turtle.

“Sure, but I managed to break mind again anyway,” Undyne grins.

“If it weren’t for Jen’s healin’ ya you wouldn’t be smiling right now missy,” Gerson takes her by the ear pinching it. “How many times I got ta tell ya to treat yerself right.”

“Ow ow ow,” Undyne complains, swinging useless fists onto the old mans tough shell.

“Thanks for always lookin’ out for her,” Gerson directs to the boys, completely uncaring of the little punches Undyne pelts him with.

“Of course General, anything for a friend!” Papyrus declares with a salute.

“No problem,” Sans says with a gentle sway.

WingDings only buzzes out a sigh.

“Say goodbye to your friends Undyne,” Gerson says with a nod and begins walking away with Undyne’s ear still between two fingers.

“Bye, see you at the gospel mill. . . if they can catch me!!!! Hahahaha!” Undyne’s laughter follows her down the street and all the way to her house. Even the wind can’t be bothered to moan any louder and swallow her cackles.

The boys stand there a moment listening to her maniacal laughter as the sun dips lower in the bleached sky.

“What’s a gospel mill?” WingDings inevitably asks.

“Church,” Sans answers.

There is another pause.

“Would they even let someone like her into church?” WingDings asks seriously. He doesn’t have much experience with ‘church’ stuff, but he knows enough to assume they wouldn’t let someone as bad as Undyne inside.

“They have to, only bad people need church,” Papyrus explains knowingly.

“Huh, I didn’t know that,” WingDings accepts this as truth even as Sans silently snickers behind them for reasons they wouldn’t understand.

After the ‘gospel mill’ lets out the following day WingDings asks to see the graves Papyrus and Sans were dug out of. The looks of shock on the families face almost convinces WingDings to take back the honest request, but Walter pops back with a crocked smile and takes his hand. “Of course, right over here,” Walter takes them around the side of the tiny church building to the graveyard.

WingDings can’t think of many times he’s been to a graveyards. He’s been to memorial services, but he can’t remember a time visiting a grave site for any reason. It’s strange, but not unpleasant. A calm serenity protects the dirt and cold stones of the graveyard with it’s blanket of silence.

The idea of dead people lying in the earth around him doesn’t bother WingDings, in fact it only stimulates his curiosity.

“Are these all humans?” WingDings asks softly, no need to be told to be silent to respect the dead. Most ghosts like calm and quiet . . . unless they’re music lovers like Mettaton and Happstablook.

“Both monsters and humans are buried here,” Walter answers softly. “This town has only received human occupants in the last fifty years so most of the graves are for monsters.” 

They walk a path to a particular patch of land where tiny little grave stones are kept. What strikes WingDings as odd though is that the grave stones only say ‘baby’ with a date, they don’t have a name. “I don’t understand?” WingDings says, knocking his head to the side as he looks up at Walter. “It just says baby.”

“It’s very common for baby’s to die the day they are born or soon after,” Walter explains with solemn honesty, never one to hide the truth, even from his children. “Humans especially don’t see the point of naming them when they only live a few hours. Maybe some day their won’t be a high mortality among the young and their mothers, but that day hasn’t come.”

“Sans and I were buried here,” Papyrus points to a tiny square of land close by, but their are no tomb stones, only wood pikes in the ground.

It’s only after he’s standing in front of the tomb stones, with Papyrus and Sans beside him, that WingDings realizes how upsetting this might be for them. “I’m sorry if this makes you uncomfortable, I was just really curious,” WingDings explains awkwardly.

“Nah, no worries, we come here to picnic all the time,” Sans pats his shoulder as Walter comes around behind them.

“If I could bring back all the lost babies I would, but even a human soul has it’s limits,” Walter bends down and gives them a hug. “Of all the children I could have found, I’m glad it was all of you.”

“Father! You’re being embarrassing again!” Papyrus complains.

“Well that’s too bad because I’m going to keep doing it,” Walter kisses each of their heads and with a groan pulls himself back upright. “Oh, piddle faddle, my back didn’t like that.” Walter rubs Papyrus’ head and encourages them back towards the main road, passing silently by the erect stones. A physical reminder of those who came before.

At lunch WingDings continues to ask questions. Now that a little part of his curiosity has been fed the rest of it wants to soak up as much as it can. “How did you do it Walter?” WingDings asks as soon as he’s finished his meal. “How did you give Sans and Papyrus a soul?”

“Well I gave them a piece of my own soul that’s all,” Walter explains, coming around the table and collecting the empty cutlery. “The souls that were with the original occupants of those bones had already moved on. So I had to carefully chisel off some of my soul and cultivate it until a new soul was formed.”

WingDings makes a face. “Wasn’t that painful?” he asks.

Walter chuckles, “Oh yes, yes, it was as painful as a vipers bite, but it was worth it.”

“Why do the metal pieces?” WingDings asks next. “It looks really cool, but it appears to have a purpose.”

“You are quite observant for one so young,” Walter praises, undeterred and radiating with that crazed spark in his eyes. Instead of launching in to a long explanation though he has self control and instead turns to his sons. “Why don’t you boys answer that one.”

“When Walter found our bones, they were incomplete so he supplemented the missing pieces with metal and clay,” Sans explains, for once putting a little more effort into his explanation.

“As we grow, the pieces need to be replaced every so often,” Papyrus adds.

Nodding his head, WingDings mind spins that around a moment before rambling. “Doesn’t that hurt? I can’t imagine having metal would be painless and why do you even grow at all? Are you monsters or humans?”

“No it doesn’t hurt and we are monster and human hybrids,” Papyrus answers proudly.

“Wow,” WingDings sockets go wide in awe. “That means you’re like me! I’m a monster human hybrid too!”

“Woowee!” Papyrus shouts and hugs him. “You really are a brother from another world!”

“That’s right, I’m an ‘other brother,’” WingDings says as he returns his hug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea of ‘other brother’ is taken from Coraline, but it is not as sinister most of the time in this series. It is a term WingDings uses often when differentiating his brothers in other worlds and I use it heavily in future stories. Other than that, this chapter was just an excuse to have Undyne around again and show a bit of the backstory of this worlds skeleton bro’s.


	7. The Lightbulb

After school the following day, the brothers bring Fuku to the saloon before heading towards Walter’s place of work, his laboratory, or the ‘Metal Barn,’ as Flarin’ fondly refers to it. The building basically is a converted barn, only much larger, roughly two or three stories tall and as wide as three railway cars.

When the brothers arrive they go around the fence and walk up confidently to the large barn doors. With a heavy knock and an impressive shout, Papyrus announces their presence, clearly heard by all those inside. “HELLO, it’s is the Great Papyrus, the Lazy Sans and the Star WingDings,” Papyrus introduces them.

They don’t have to wait long till a side door is unlatched revealing a shaking Alphys. “G-good to . . . good afternoon boys,” Alphys smiles at them, adjusting her large multi-lens glasses and allowing them inside. “Walter will be. . . Walter is distracted, but hard at work.”

“I’m sure he is!” Papyrus agrees.

“How ‘bout you Doctor Alphys?” Sans asks, eye light scanning the equipment, searching for anything new since the last time he visited.

“Oh, oh yes, I managed to . . . I made an arm,” Alphys motions for them to follow, taking them to the robot like body WingDings saw her working on when he first arrived all those weeks ago. “It isn’t quiet . . . it is operational 75% of the time, which is an improvement of 5% when you . . . since the last time you were here.”

“That is wonderful Doctor Alphys,” Papyrus praises the young dinosaur type monster. “Happstablook will love having movable arms again!”

“Happstablook?” WingDings asks.

“Yeah, he’s a ghost that haunts the player piano in Flarin’s Saloon,” Sans explains. “Alphys here been trying to make ‘im a body to posses instead.”

“I was commissioned by him several years ago, my first major job,” Alphys gushes a bit before fumbling. “Didn’t think it . . . I was hoping I’d be finished by now.”

“Hasn’t been dad been helpin’ ya,” Sans asks.

“Oh, he has,” Alphys nods vigorously. “But he’s been focusing on his soul magnet since WingDings arrived, which takes precedence right now, I think.”

“Hmm,” Sans nods thoughtfully and WingDings knows that face, he’s worried about something past that pasted grin.  
“Something wrong?” WingDings asks, Papyrus nodding beside him, the very same words rattling his own hard skull.

“Nothing you need tah worry about, come on let me show you something real neat,” Sans waves WingDings over to a large doll like body hanging from an elaborate pulley system.

At first WingDings almost mistakes the doll of white clay as a large skeleton, but no it is very much crafted, with a mask like face and metal hinges hidden behind the white shell like pieces. The doll has arms, legs, an entire body and face, but doesn’t appear to have the ability to walk since it’s body is supported from above like a mechanical puppet.

“What is it?” WingDings asks, reaching forward to touch the human sized doll. This machine or puppet might be even taller than an average human.

“It’s an automaton,” Sans explains, reaching a hand forward to grab the leg and with great effort manages to move it a little. “It’s not on right now, so it can’t move. It’s really heavy.”

“This automaton was originally designed to write father’s notes for him since he has less than tidy hand writing,” Papyrus explains with a twirling wave of his hand.

“Yeah,” Sans reaches up and points to the hands. “Dad designed wheels or disks to go into the hand slots, kind of like the wheel of a music box. The automaton reads the divots and holes as letters and writes.”

“Originally this magnificent machine only had arms and hands, but Father knew this wasn’t enough and designed an entire body as practice for our bodies. This body is also helpful to Alphys and her project,” Papyrus explains in further detail.

“This is one of dad’s personal projects, not a commission,” Sans explains, pointing at some of the other devices that are covered by heavy tarps. “Those are what dad is mostly known for.”

“What are they?” WingDings inevitably asks next.

“Engines . . . apparently,” Papyrus says, but he doesn’t appear convinced as he squints at the large shadowed shapes that look more foreboding the longer WingDings studies them.

“People from the big city commission him to design boilers and generator blueprints for their factories,” Sans explains. “No one can beat a Gaster original though.”

Well, at least the machine are nothing malicious then.

“Boys did you show WingDings the writing automaton?” Walter calls to them, walking over to join them.

“Sure did,” Sans beams with pride. “You know it’s my favorite.”

“Mine to,” Walter looks up at the large doll with pride and WingDings only scrunches his lips to the side as he looks at it.

“Couldn’t you have just learned to write better?” he points out astutely after the appropriate length of silence.

Aside from the hiss of steam and groaning boiler there is no commentary offered by the Gaster family.

“Well where would the fun be in that?” Walter laughs, knocking a hand behind his head as if the idea to learn to write more legibly never crossed his mind.

“Fair,” WingDings shrugs. “I can’t write well, so if I could make a machine to do it for me, I think I would.” Never mind computers and tablets exist in his world so he only needs to learn to type or speak so the computer can understand him.

“You and I have a lot in common,” Walter’s laughter eventually dies off as he encourages the boys towards the machine he is currently constructing.

As they step away, WingDings lingers, his gaze locking onto the automatons hands. More precisely the holes in the figures dainty skeleton like hands. Sans explained the purpose for the holes, but WingDings can’t shake just how much it reminds him of his own hands back home. Could this doll be his alternate self of this world? But it isn’t even alive?

“You coming WingDings?” Walter gently encourages when he falls behind.

“MmmHmm, just thinking,” WingDings says still looking at the contraption a moment before quickly picking up his feet to catch up.

They enter Walter’s main workspace, where WingDings woke up. The area isn’t any more organized than the last time he was here, but the scientist probably has a special place for everything . . . even if it doesn’t look like it to the outside observer. There are two contraptions set up. One looks like a Frankenstein fish bowl and the other appears to be a WingDings sized metal box with no windows.

“I am not sitting in that thing,” WingDings blurts right off the bat, lacing his arms tightly over his chest. The boy is rather intelligent and knows immediately that the metal box is suppose to be where he sits while they have the other machine on to gather the pieces of his soul.

“I can add cushions and soft things inside,” Walter assures him nervously, looking a little hurt that he’s been shot down so quickly. The eager scientist hasn’t even had the opportunity to explain anything.

“Father, he’s afraid of the dark,” Papyrus explains for WingDings.

“Oh dear, I’m so sorry I should have thought to ask for your thoughts first,” Walter slaps his knee before looking at the metal box with a critical eye. Lifting his greasy hand he rubs his chin in thought, before marching to the charts overflowing his desk. The pair of goggles perched on his head come down as he scrutinizes the drawings, adding bold lines and writing sloppy notes. “Asgore always is reminding me to run things by the client and you WingDings are the client.”

“It’s alright, I should have said something sooner,” WingDings apologizes.

“Yes, but how do you know what to ask when it’s something brand new,” Walter reasons, pointing at his nose as if he’s telling him a secret, but the gesture is lost in translation for WingDings. “I’m the one who understands the machine therefore it is my responsibility to teach and inform you.”

“Huh, so if you’re the one with knowledge it’s your responsibility not the uninformed . . .” WingDings says mostly to himself, feeling just a tad guilty. He likes to take advantage of those his own age for what they do not know, it’s a way he can get on their nerves and brag. “I don’t like that.”

Walter’s crooked smile splits open as he laughs, lifting his head a moment, but soon lowering it to continue scrutinizing his work. “I need to be careful what I say around you boys,” he says. “You’ll actually understand what I mean.”

“We are all very bright,” Papyrus agrees with a ‘Nyeh heh’ breathed into the words.

“I’ll look into adding some kind of lighting or a heavy glass,” Walter explains, waving the three over. When they are closer Walter picks WingDings up and sets him onto the table so he can see the diagrams as he explains his ideas. “It will need to be a tough, thick glass so the negative current can run through the entire vessel, thus retracting the energy this device is emitting.”

“As long as we do it during the day and light can come in, I’ll be okay with that,” WingDings agrees, looking down at the schematics with large curious eye sockets.

“That is wonderful WingDings, I’ll put the windows towards the top so they will catch more natural light,” Walter says, drawing slates and small holes for windows.

“Is glass hard to come by around here?” WingDings asks, noting the small size.

“That is one reason, but the smaller the glass the higher chance it has of retaining it’s integrity and structure, even with the current going through it,” Walter encourages him.

This is all the encouragement WingDings needs to ask even more questions. “Couldn’t you just take my soul out of this body and put it into something smaller?” he asks.

“I could, but I don’t think you’d like that very much and I don’t want to hurt you or your soul,” Walter answers.

“I’m not that fragile,” WingDings claims swiftly, a slight flush of magic in his face as he makes his defense.

Walter doesn’t answer right away, choosing his words and mulling over them as WingDings waits impatiently. “You are a very strong young person WingDings, you have to be, but you need to recognized your weaknesses,” he says, glancing around the table and finding a rudimentary light bulb of some sort. “Is this light bulb strong or fragile?”

Pressing his lips together WingDings can already tell he doesn’t like where this conversation is going, but he answers nonetheless. “Fragile.”

“But it is designed to hold something we ourselves cannot,” Walter says with excitement. “It has it’s limitations and strengths as do you or I. You are right WingDings you are strong, but you are also fragile, just like me, my boys and this light bulb. You just so happen to have more to you than the rest of us.”

“More to me?” WingDings asks.

“So much more,” Walter promises and hands him the light bulb which softly glows as WingDings clasps the cap of the bulb. 

Surprised WingDings holds the light carefully, a smile softly tipping his thin lips as he studies the strange light. The others watch fondly, until Walter continues his work encouraging the children to offer their impute no matter what it is. The old scientist never speaks down to them, but treats them as he would anyone else with a cookie spirited gleam dancing in his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hang on a sec, almost made myself cry.


End file.
